Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Bearing Witness: Hitting From Behind

("What pressure are you running?")

As you may know, next week I embark upon a series of Book-Related Appearances (or BRAs). My tour of America's "Hipster Belt" terminates at its muffin top, the erstwhile #1 cycling city of Portland, Oregon, which is now languishing beneath Minneapolis in the standings like a feeble "hipster" beneath an ample, corn-fed lover. The elaborate tramp stamp on this muffin top is of course Powell's bookstore, where I will be appearing, and for whose website I am currently writing a "guest blog." You can read this blog here, and while today's post has yet to "drop" I can reveal that it involves those stupid boot sandals:

I took this photograph moments before she opened that garment bag, crawled into it, and disappeared in a burst of glitter.

In the meantime, pending my departure, I feel uneasy--not because I will be stepping out of my "comfort zone" and visiting cities whose folkways, inhabitants, and condiments are strange, frightening, and unfamiliar to me, but because ever since yesterday I have been haunted by the GHMOIARBH from that video:

The truth is that I am of frail emotional constitution, and I am easily distressed by disturbing countenances. That is why the Legions of the Nonplussed to whom I have borne witness over the years reside eternally in my mind like a Pantheon of Disapproval or a Jury of Derision:

His 'stache is a pushbroom of justice, sweeping his opponents into neat little piles like so much sawdust.

Speaking of lawyers with toll-free numbers, they can come in handy when you're rear-ended by a car service driver:

I happened upon this scene only after the accident had happened, so I can't say with any certainty what happened, but I do have my suspicions. First of all, note that the Town Car has body panels from at least three different donor vehicles:

This is clearly not the first time this car has crashed into something.

Secondly, consider the car service driver himself, seen here talking to the rear-endee:

As all New Yorkers know, car service drivers are always talking on cellphones, and they have flabby jowls which they cultivate specially so that they can cradle their phones to the sides of their faces at all times. These jowls effectively hold the cellphone in place, and are their idea of a "hands-free device." I would confidently wager that, if one were to lift this man's jowls, one would find the impression of a Motorola logo still visible in his skin.

So, given the Town Car's colorway and the driver's chinway, my best guess is that the car service driver is at fault. Then again, I could be wrong, but in either case at least the Fat Chance was spared:

It's a good thing he wasn't using a trunk rack.

Shortly after passing this scene I mounted the Manhattan Bridge, which was coursing with bicycle commuters like a doped racer's veins course with red blood cells. So varied were the wheeled conveyances that I even saw a unicycle commuter, which is as dorky as it sounds and is kind of like seeing a pedestrian hopping. I couldn't help wondering to myself, "Is this it? Has New York City finally become the equal of Portland?" Between the commuting and the "bike culture" evidenced in that Streetfilms video, it's tempting to think so. However, you've got to wake up pretty early in the morning and put on a pretty ridiculous costume to out-silly Portland. With regard to the New York City "David Bowie Dance Ride," a commenter had this to say:

Why must people constantly embroil bicycles in their embarrassing behavior? The only way these people could possibly do more damage to cycling's credibility would be if they put on Ku Klux Clan robes and started burning crosses. Immediately after watching that video, I did this, followed by this. If you're looking for me on Saturday, expect to find me in Antananarivo.

The fish skeleton design will cradle your painted torso as you humiliate yourself, though attempting a cyclocross-style remount would no doubt leave the inside of your thigh looking like you were taunting your a cat with your "pants yabbies" instead of a piece of yarn.

But to remount you've got to dismount, and not everybody is proficient in the esoteric art of "clipping out." Recently, I observed a "Streetsign-Assisted Fredstand," which is a technique frequently employed by those who have not quite mastered their choice of pedalway and are reluctant or unable to disengage:

In the absence of a streetsign the Fredstander may employ a lamppost or a parked car, and in the absence of a stationary object of any kind he will most likely ride around in circles until the light changes or until he is felled by toe overlap.

In addition to the Fredstand, I have also witnessed the "Tri Geek Walk of Shame," wherein the triathlete walks his or her bike to or from the park in stocking feet with the empty shoes still dangling from the pedals. Unfortunately though, I have not as of yet managed to capture one on film. Similarly, I did not manage to photograph the strange gold motorized bicycle I saw darting through a traffic circle the other day. Amazingly, though, another reader forwarded me this photo, and it is indeed the very bicycle I saw:

It sounded like a hundred leafblowers, it was doing at least 35mph, and it was even more spectacular in motion.

Given the proliferation of power-assisted bicycles, is it any wonder this whole "motorized doping" controversy has arisen? And could Giro d'Italia winner Ivan Basso be guilty of the practice? Well, I don't know, but a number of readers have pointed out that he does have a single knuckle tattoo:

Keep in mind though that a mono-digital knuckle tattoo does not necessarily mean someone is guilty. As for the thumb gesture, he looks like a painter about to start a portrait, and one wonders if that portrait could be of his sister, Elisa:

Only the deadened groin of the GHMOIARBH could fail to be stirred by this ravishing she-Basso.

So it's o.k. to be publicly naked as long as you look like Ms. Basso and it does not involve cycling? I can't keep up with all these rules. Rule #2,666(a)(3): No shoeless walking of a bicycle. Rule #4102-52(b): Unclipping is required from one's pedals at all stops.

this morning on my commute i was circled by a middle-aged man who had a boy on his top bar and another, bigger, older boy on the rear rack. he did not want to stop at the light and he did three circles around me... Snob, until you are circled by a bike carrying three riders, you have not seen the worst of it... scary, man.

I swear that was the non-plussed journalist sitting behind the Celtic's bench last night. Did anyone else see him? While all the other fans were exhorting Ray Allen to make a shot, he seemed to be passing judgement on Snobbie.

Per Monday's Pub for men's privates, where have the days gone when English Leather was all a man needed? And didn't anyone else think that knucklehead from the World Bike Naked video looked like Christopher Lloyd from Who Framed Roger Rabbit (minus the hair)?

i thank you for you for giving me my three seconds of fame. yes, the gypsy cab was at fault, no surprise there. yes, his vehicle took all the damage. yes, i never got to the trails that day. and yes, the police never showed up.

Considering the TGWOS, I have a distant cousin who apparently knows someone who once went to school with the brother of a tri-athlete. According to my DC, the event disciplin order is swim/bike/run (thrash/churn/waddle) and socks of the stockingway variety are always greeted with nonplussitude.So 'barefoot in the park' is the TGWOS mantra...

hey, don't badmouth sandalboots. anything that makes a sandal less of a sandal is welcome! and if they're substantial enough, they can protect us from having to deal with the full extent of horror that is the cankle.

Good Luck on your Western events, too bad I won't be able to make your Seattle date (19th) as that date/time coincides not only with the World Wide Naked Bike Ride but also the Livestrong Challenge Seattle and most importantly it's the time of the Fremont Fair parade and about 2PM should be the painted naked bicyclists! http://bit.ly/dbvSyY and here's my collage of them http://bit.ly/9Rwx8r I hope you have more than a few attendees at your Seattle thingee. BTW I have bought and read your literary baby.

I do the whole fredstanding thing pretty regularly. Is far preferable (I would assume) than doing that whole crazy hipster violent trackstand thing where they shift back & forth, side to side erratic and convulsively, all in the name of not embarrassing themselves by touching foot to pavement. It's just nice (especially when riding through downtown) to not clip in/out at every single stop sign/light. I'm always real careful if using a parked car though, for fear of setting off some overly sensitive and obnoxious car alarm.

I thought that the Grant Pederson review was a little snarky and creepy. He sounded like an old man saying that he was "worried" about the Snob and compared him to Michael Jackson. Weird, but I still want the new Riv Hunqupillar.

Not that you are keeping score, but I think fredstanding has its merits. I do it often even on my commuter bike, which does not have clipless pedals. Coming out of a Fredstand it's a different, more preferable kind of wobbling during those first couple of pedal strokes.

was right there with Frilly as she was charging hard for the line, but flatted and had to walk it in... punctures will be a thing of the past though when I get my new Monster P-Far. I'll curate it with a one-off Brooks fishbone saddle

The streetsign-assisted-fredstand used to be very common before clipless pedals. If you were riding with your toestraps tightened, you'd have to reach down to your foot and loosen it in order to get out of the pedal, and then reach down again to tighten it when you started again. So we leaned against anything handy when stopped at lights. Either that or we left our straps loose enough to pull out except when we really needed the power.

But with clipless, it's so easy to get in and out of the pedal that I agree with the Snob's analysis; it just means you don't know how to clip out and back in.

"I agree with the Snob's analysis; it just means you don't know how to clip out and back in."

Actually I gotta admit that's true. I spent a couple years racing mountain bikes in the great state of Maryland, even taking second place in a month long series. And (you're not gonna believe this, but I swear it's true) I did the whole thing using training wheels, cause I had so much trouble clipping in & out of pedals! (they make special knobbie training wheels for folks like myself who want to ride off-road but don't know how to clip out and back in.)

I forgot what GBHMOIARBH was for a second and I had to look at yesterday's post to figure it out.. I must have laughed for a full ten minutes about that...gratuitous haggard man of indeterminate age, ravaged by hipness

...i woulda been a bitch all year if the blackhawks hadn't won...did i mention how much i hate the flyers ???...i think i might a' !!!...

...as much as i'd have liked to see them win it in front of the home crowd, (a)- i woulda missed the game but tonight i got to enjoy it & (b)- i know it stung the flyers more giving it up on the home ice...

Yes, Mr Snob as the sleep deprivation brought about by your new role as a parent continues and your sleep debt builds and builds over the coming days you will find that in increasingly severe fits of random neural activity your dying brain will reveal to you concepts of unprecidented humour that will indeed flow on into an increasingly entertaining blog.

But be warned, at some point soon, I expect possibly by as early as the week after next, your brain will have become so damaged and your thought processes so abstract that your grip on a reality that can be communicated to others will be lost all together, perhaps irreversibly.

Your legion of readers baffled by your gibberish will cease to visit your blog. Only a few at first, the others still holding out for the great unifying punchline that surely must come. But eventually they too will turn away.

It is around this time you decide that you will indeed purchase your very own Big Dummy.

My boy turned one last week and he's been for a few rides on the back of the Big Dummy. Good luck with your first year of fatherhood.

go blackhawks! there's something about watching dudes lifting the cup over their heads. you know those guys couldn't be any happier. winning the tour is one thing, but you don't get your name on a trophy that has been and will continue to be worshiped by millions.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!